


Beautiful

by LiraelClayr007



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Castiel, M/M, dean's inner monologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 16:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15689448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiraelClayr007/pseuds/LiraelClayr007
Summary: “How long has he been sitting there?”Dean starts; he’d been watching Cas and hadn’t heard Sam behind him.“Five hours.” Dean practically spits out the words. “He won’t eat. He won’t move to a more comfortable chair. He won’t even take his damn pain pills. And he can’t tell me that doesn’t hurt, I know what a broken collar bone feels like. He’s just so--”*****In which Cas, now fully human for several months, has been injured, and Dean has to Use His Words to comfort his friend.





	Beautiful

“How long has he been sitting there?”

Dean starts; he’d been watching Cas and hadn’t heard Sam behind him.

“Five hours.” Dean practically spits out the words. “He won’t eat. He won’t move to a more comfortable chair. He won’t even take his damn pain pills. And he can’t tell me that doesn’t hurt, I know what a broken collar bone feels like. He’s just so--” Sam opens his mouth to say something-- _ Probably something all-knowing and not at all helpful _ , Dean thinks--but Dean raises his hands in surrender, taking a few calming breaths.

He turns again to look at Cas, perched on the edge of a hard wooden chair at the war room table. It’s been nearly half a year since he fully lost his grace, but it’s still a bit startling to see him without his trenchcoat, or even a suit. The white of the sling is stark and bright against the soft navy of his worn long sleeved henley. His hair’s grown out some; it’s not nearly as long as Sam’s, but it’s starting to curl at his collar and around his ears.  _ He shouldn’t cut it, though, _ Dean thinks. _ It suits him. _

“You gonna talk to him?” Sam asks, and Dean realizes he’s been staring, completely lost in thought.

“I tried. He wouldn't even look at me. But that was,” he looks at his watch, “about three hours ago. Maybe he’ll listen now.” Dean takes a drink of the beer he’d forgotten he was holding, then makes a face. It’s warm. And flat.  _ How long have I been standing here? _

Sam makes a face Dean can’t quite understand, starts to say something, then thinks better of it. After a beat he settles on, “Good luck.” As he walks off toward his bedroom Dean thinks he hears him mutter, “You’re both gonna need it,” but why would Sam say that?

Dean drinks the last of his beer before he remembers it’s not good anymore, grimaces at the taste, then sets the empty bottle on a ledge. His steps are soft and silent; he feels like he’s approaching a skittish and wounded bird.  _ Or an angel with broken wings _ .

“Hey Cas.”

“I could hear you and Sam, you know. I may not be an angel anymore, but I still have ears.” He doesn’t turn toward Dean, addressing his statement to the wall.

Dean can’t help but laugh, breaking the unnatural silence in the room. “I’m glad you didn’t lose your sense of humor with your grace.”

The change in Cas’s posture is slight, but it’s enough; even from behind him Dean can see that he’s smiling. Or at least relaxed a little.

Instead of sitting in a chair next to Cas he leans against the table in front of him and a little off to the side. He can see Cas’s face better this way. Cas isn’t smiling exactly, but one corner of his mouth is turned up.  _ Better than nothing, I suppose. _

Dean hesitates to break the spell of Cas’s even slightly improved mood, but…

“You’re going to be okay.”

Cas’s head falls forward and his shoulders slump, and he hisses in pain at the thoughtless movement.

“Cas,” Dean says softly, trying to meet Cas’s downcast eyes, “it’s going to be okay.”

Cas’s face is bleak when he finally looks up. “Dean. I’m…I’m…” He waves his uninjured arm, indicating not just his injury but all of him. His words come out in a tumble, fast and angry. “I once led armies. I glared and beings cowered. Other  _ angels _ feared me. And now I am  _ small _ . I am frail, and weak. I am…” His gaze drops, and all the vehemence leaves his countenance. “Now I am broken.”

It takes everything in Dean, but he doesn’t look away, and he holds his expression steady. “You’re injured,” he says, his voice even. “You’ll heal.”

“I’m  _ human _ ,” Cas says bitterly. “There’s no healing from that.”

The space between them is no more than a few feet, but the silence that follows Cas’s words could hold galaxies. New stars are born, planets are formed, other planets fall to dust, stars go supernova, black holes form--life and death and everything in between--and still Dean and Cas feel the space between them grow.

Into the stillness Dean says, “I thought you’d adjusted. Accepted.” His voice cracks, breaks.

“I thought I had.” There is only truth in Cas’s voice.

Cas waves his uninjured arm again. “Look at this, Dean. Look at my hand.” Having gained Dean’s attention, he stops waving and shows Dean the back of his hand.

Understanding washes over Dean. “It’s a scar, Cas. I have more of them than I could ever count. Hunters seem to have more than most.”

“But until half a year ago this vessel--”

“Body,” Dean interrupts. “It’s not a vessel anymore. It’s a body. It’s  _ your  _ body.”

“And that’s exactly my point!” Cas cries in frustration. “When this was a vessel, it was pristine. Perfect. For  _ years _ . Now that it’s just my human weakness, I’ve got marked up skin and a broken bone. In only six months. What’s going to happen in a year? In five? In  _ twenty _ ?”

Dean moves to sit directly in front of Cas and reaches out and takes his hand, which he’d begun flapping in agitation again, in both of his. Cas immediately stills. Dean rests Cas’s palm on his, then traces the scar with a fingertip. “It’s just the outside, Cas.” His voice, like his touch on Cas’s skin, is feather-soft. “A scar, a million scars, could never change the fact that you are--”

Halfway through the sentence his heart begins to pound and his brain begins to panic. _ Am I really saying this? Is this truly what I want? It’s only a few words, but these words could change everything, maybe I should just--oh god, look at those eyes, I’ve been looking into those eyes for so long, how could I ever stop? Just finish the damn sentence, Dean. Don’t let go. _

“--beautiful.”

Cas’s eyes widen ever so slightly, and Dean finds it impossible to breathe while he waits for Cas to say something. To say anything.

Hesitantly, Cas says, “Beautiful?” Then, as if to convince himself, “It’s the vessel, that’s what you see.”

Dean squeezes Cas’s hand and looks straight into his eyes. “No. I’ve always been able to see  _ you _ . Always.”

“Beautiful.” This time he’s looking at Dean, and the word is infused with such raw emotion that Dean feels heat rise to his cheeks.

Heart still pounding in his throat, Dean tugs on Cas’s hand until he stands, wincing at the pain that crosses Cas’s face. After a moment he manages to say, “I’d really like to kiss you now. Would that be okay?”

Cas stammers out a few incoherent noises before giving up entirely and just nodding.

Dean’s had many kisses in his life. Many were good. Some were great.

Not a single one compares to this.

Cas’s lips are soft against his, hesitant at first but quickly becoming more sure. Their hands are still tangled together but Dean pulls one away--once Cas allows it--to run a thumb along the rough stubble on Cas’s jaw. When he reaches the softness below his ear and threads his fingers through soft, slightly curling hair, Cas breaks the kiss to breathe Dean’s name. Dean leans forward to kiss him again. He wants to crush them together, to erase any space between them, but he’s painfully aware of Cas’s hurt shoulder.

And there’s time, he realizes when they stop to look into each other’s eyes. There’s plenty of time. Every other kiss in his life had been fleeting, a moment stolen from a long, hard life. But these kisses...kissing Cas feels like coming home.

“Now,” Dean says, full of mock sternness, “I’m going to take you into town and buy you dinner, and then you’re going to take your pain pills.”

“My shoulder doesn’t hurt anymore,” says Cas, slightly out of breath.

“Yes it does.”

“Yes it does,” Cas concedes. “But I don’t mind nearly as much.”

Lacing their fingers together, Dean smiles and says, “Let’s go for a drive.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I just love writing these two, and this little one-shot is a particular favorite of mine. Probably because I'm a sucker for first kisses. ;)


End file.
